


Change for a Cure

by Leticheecopae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Accidental hive mind, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Modification, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings confusion, Lots of:, M/M, Minor of the following:, Multiple Sclerosis, Mutation, Mutilation, Mutual masturbation via mindlink, Newton just makes so many bad ideas, Self harm (For Science), Slow Burn, Terminal Illnesses, animalistic urges, body mutation, sexual themes later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 21:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: Newton had assumed that Hermann's cane was from an accident. Less than a minute in Hermann's head had set that assumption straight. There had been no screech of tires, a fall down a hill, even a slip on the ice. All there had been was an ache that seeped into each memory and left Newton's limbs pulsing for days after.Newton had assumed there was nothing he could do for Hermann's condition; his nerves and muscles deteriorating. He thought he'd just have to sit back and watch his friend slip away. Then the kaiju samples showed growth, fresh growth, that had occurred well after death. Newton had gotten to work.Newton assumes that he can keep the mice in the lab a secret, the serum in his blood a pet project, and that Hermann will be none the wiser until he's ready to tell him that he might just have a cure.Too bad assuming never seems to work out, especially since Newton never assumed that Hermann would want to try drifting at the most inopportune moment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of the longer commissions I have been working on. How many chapters will it be? Somewhere between 30-40,000 words, with well over 10,000 words already written and ready to post.
> 
> A thanks to the commissioner to let me get weird with this one. I'm ever so happy that you requested these two and are letting me put a fun spin on this as well.
> 
> A note on MS. As someone who has volunteered at the MS 150 for years and had someone in my life claimed by the disease, I will say that I am going to do my damndest to portray this accurately. I can only guess at the pain MS sufferers feel, so if I portray anything inaccurately, I am more than welcoming of criticism. I'm also going to do my best with the medical information in this, but if anyone knows more than I and I get something wrong, I am again open to criticism to make future chapters more accurate. It helps that half my family is in the medical profession, but I can't promise I'll get everything right. That and...well Kaiju aren't real, so I'm fudging the heck out of how that works. Lots of educated guesses and psudo-science for that bit. 
> 
> Anyways, this is long winded enough. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as my lovely commissioner has been.

Newton hangs at the edge of the throat and stares down into its pulsing maw. The dim twilight of the world around him turns the blues of his skin purple, the metal of the machines that hold him pink. 

They will drop him, and he will fight.

They will drop him, and he will die.

All the others have died before him. There is little that will change that outcome.

He is ready to die.

To die is to teach his brethren. To die is to kill as many as he can for killing those before.

Maybe he is the one that will live?

Newton drops, and the throat swallows him. Those still waiting for their turn cheer him into the depths, the echoes of their pain far behind their rally cries.

He floats down, down, and hovers over a bubbling cauldron. The smell of vegetable oil is thick in his nose, and he feels his stomach rumble.

“Move over, Herm, don’t want you getting splashed by this. One drop and you could catch fire.”

Newton looks up to find an older man grinning at him, the start of gray at his temples and crows feet stepping down his cheeks. 

“Now, how long do you think these will take?” He holds up a plate of raw, breaded chicken thighs.

Newton looks down at the pot. _’Based on the heat and pressure you plan on using, it should take less than a minute for each to be cooked through,’_ Newton hears in his head, though it is not his voice. His body aches down to the very marrow and he shifts his weight onto the cane gripped tight in his palm.

“How the fuck should I know?” comes out of his mouth. “I work with biology.” 

The man’s laugh is a roar. Newton turns to look, and it isn’t a kindly father figure he finds, but a glowing tongue aiming for him. It will grab him, pull him down, tell his brothers what this human is and then they’ll all be one. All of them, and they will know what a human mind is like; will be able to think like—

Newton jerks awake, his body still. He waits for the tongue to come sliding out of the darkness, but instead, all he finds is the dim light of early morning seeping through his window. 

“Shit,” he grumbles as he rubs a hand over his face. Another kaiju dream with a dash of Hermann thrown in. Fucking perfect.

He rolls over and finds 5:27 glowing blearily at him, his eyes unfocused and fuzzy without his glasses to correct the light seeping through the lenses to his ocular nerve. 

“Well shit,” he sighs. He could try and go back to sleep, that’s always an option, but that would also mean staring at his ceiling for a few more hours and wondering when would be a good time to get breakfast without someone in the mess hall giving him a pity smile. He’s not the only one who gets them, plenty of people in the Jaeger program have nightmares, just most of their’s don’t come from the brain of an intergalactic alien from who the fuck knows where.

Pulling on yesterday's pants and one of his last remaining clean shirts —he really needs to go down to the laundry wing, seriously, his chair isn’t going to hold much more— Newton shuffles out of his room with his laptop in tow. 

An hour later, after a couple cups of shit coffee and a quick breakfast from a gently smiling cook, Newton is ready to work. Hell, he’s excited to work, because if the little blinking light in the top corner of his laptop tells him anything, it's that one of Mira's tests is done. He opens it up and grins. 

“Oh hell yes,” he murmurs as he looks at the newest Kaiju DNA chains. The strands are dazzling to study, the links almost fully complete despite having been thawed over a month ago. Newton clicks on a few notes and reads over the degradation reports. Mira’s outdone herself this time. He whistles.

“Damn.” If these are correct, then she’s just proved his theory that full rigor mortis doesn’t set in until almost thirty-six hours after death for a Kaiju. The better news, she learned it based on one of her animal hybrids. She’s getting closer. She’ll need more samples out of the dead juvenile Kaiju, the one stored in the giant freezer, and hopefully, she’ll stay towards the hindquarters for her DNA. The brain is Newton’s, and it has been his biggest asset, his golden calf, and is worth its weight in meteorites. It also lets him take samples from around the skull with minimal notice. Mira would notice, though. He knows she would.

Newton clicks into the data about his own proteins; the DNA synthetic ones that spiral in a continuous loop. Each strand has been engineered, spliced, and formatted based off of all the information Mira has gained from her multiple specimens, both Kaiju and homegrown, and Newton’s own ideas.

Newton pulls up one of his brain maps. Not one of the wavelength ones, but the one that maps out the juvenile Kaiju’s neuron web. There is a space in it where he and Hermann had pierced the brain of the adolescent, but despite the damage, even after death, there was nerve restoration. _Cerebral_ restoration. The second he had realized it, Newton had gone down the rabbit hole of genetics. He’s somewhere near the earth's core now, he thinks, with how much information he has.

Newton clicks on another file. It is also a brain map, but of a mouse. A mouse that was lobotomized, given a dose of one of the proteins, and had the two hemispheres of the Corpus Callosum come back together. It had died shortly after from brain swelling, but it had still healed! 

“Waste of time my ass,” he mutters as he looks over the data. That’s what the higher-ups had told him, that looking into the healing factor while the Kaiju Creators could be coming back any day was insanity. All of the data he had collected on the healing factor up to that point had been put into a backlog file marked for ‘later’. How much later, no one knows, but later enough that he’s not willing to wait.

Hermann’s reflection fills his screen a split second before Hermann speaks. “Did Mira miss something in an analysis?” 

“Jesus, privacy?” Newt quickly clicks out of the window he’s in and back to a Kaiju brain schematic, though he’s not sure how much Hermann saw.

“Says the man who has his scribblings all over the walls.”

“Hey, I got that from you,” Newton snaps.

“And I’ve been craving that fake, processed sugar swill you’re always chugging, but you don’t see me giving in,” Hermann hums.

“Hey, energy drinks are ambrosia as far as I’m concerned. If Achilles had had them then-”

“Then it would have been his heart that gave out and not his heel,” Hermann replies absently as he looks over Newt’s shoulder. Before the drift, Hermann probably wouldn’t have given a flying fuck about the genetic information on the screen, but since the drift, he’s been more and more interested. Hell, Newton has started to understand some of the insanity Hermann scrawls around the room. Not a lot of it, but enough to ask questions.

“What does Mira need now?” Hermann asks.

“Nothing important,” Newton replies quickly as he pulls up more about the brainwaves, doing his best to cover up the fact that he hadn’t been working on his own project. “She just sent over some specs for me to check. You know, early stuff for the splicing tests.” It’s not a full lie. Mira, another of the many scientists being holed up and used for Kaiju studies, has sent him some data over Kaiju biology in reference to splicing before. Hermann doesn’t need to know that Newton had requested it from her.

Mira is the top genealogist in relation to gene splicing, and her theories and experiments are more valuable than gold when it comes to what Newton wants to do. Having genetic studies with her name on them also helps keep Hermann's curiosity at bay; it’s not weird for Mira to be looking into splicing and DNA modification. Sometimes he’ll sneak her name on some of his own work just in case, though he always deletes it before saving.

“Well, don’t let her distract you too long, though I’m assuming you’ve made some sort of breakthrough if you’re up this early.”

Newt feels his nervousness fade as he realizes Hermann’s bought the half truth. 

“Yeah! Well, I’ve gotten up to at least a twenty-percent match to the data we created while drifting.” Newton clicks over to an intricate map of wavelengths, only a fraction of which have been colored; Red for Hermann, yellow for Newton, blue for the Kaiju, and white for unknown. In places, there are stripes of orange, green, purple, and black where all three of their brain waves overlap. There is very little black.

“Trying to pull you and me out of the equation is more complicated than I first thought.” He motions to the few waves that are specifically Hermann. “I mean, it’s easier to localize us, but knowing how much was us separate, and then us together, and vice-versa with the Kaiju during the drift, it makes it into one hell of a puzzle.”

“And you still can’t retrieve the data from your first drift?” 

Newton heaves a dramatic sigh. “No, if I could, mapping the Kaiju would be a hell of a lot easier, but that computer fried faster than your father’s chicken.”

“My father’s...oh.” Hermann stands up a bit straighter, though Newton notes the more definite tilt towards this cane. “Didn’t know you got those memories.”

Newton smirks. “Hey, using science to cook is pretty damn cool. Wish I had snagged a few more memories of him while I was in there. He seems like an awesome guy, though I never saw you as someone to eat fried chicken.”

“I wasn’t,” Hermann scrunches his nose. “Father developed a taste for it after a trip to America; all I ever tasted was fat and oil.”

“Aw, come on, fried chicken is great! I bet I could root out at least one memory where you enjoyed it.”

“If you can’t make any more progress soon, you might get your chance,” Hermann murmurs.

“Huh?”

Hermann releases a puff of air from his nose. “If you can’t get to the information about you and the Kaiju from your first attempt, then us drifting solo so you can map the two of us would work in your favor, wouldn’t it? At least it would supply you with our brain patterns.”

Newt’s heart jumps into his throat. While that would help, hell it would help a lot, the last thing he wants is Hermann to get a look at ANY of his current memories. 

“You alright?”

Shit, right, facial emoting is a thing, and he can feel that his is screaming apprehension. Time for another half-truth.

“You kidding? Last time we came out of the drift we were useless for almost a week with our calculations! We do this, and we could lose even more time!” While he’s not lying, he is exaggerating. It hadn’t been _quite_ a full week that they had been having issues, and even then they hadn’t been that bad. The two scientists just kept being thrown off track by sudden memories that weren’t theirs while trying to adjust their scientific methods to incorporate their new knowledge. The dreams had been the worse then; hell, they’re still a problem. This morning was enough of an indicator that he’s still feeling tremors from their last drift, he can’t imagine what it would be like to just be the two of them swimming around in each others’ gray matter.

“If you don’t want back in my skull then you can just say so. You had no issue saying such things before.” 

_”I don’t want to feel the pain,”_ Newton’s mind whispers. “Hey, one time in your skull was enough.” He does his best to busy himself with the mess on his desk, keeping his eyes well away from Hermann’s. 

“Likewise.” Hermann steps away from him and starts heading for his side of the lab. Not that there are really ‘sides’ anymore. Some of Hermann's calculations are well on Newton’s side of the board, papers from both men are scattered between the desks on both ends, and multiple equations have variables reflecting both sets of handwriting. 

Newton swings around in his chair and watches Hermann, eyes darting over him. A memory of Hermann’s surfaces for a moment before disappearing back into Newton’s mind, leaving him grinning.

“Hey, I’d go back in just to figure out where that Pie tattoo is.”

Hermann turns back towards him, face bright red and stunned.

“Didn’t know you let that one slip, did ya,” Newton smirks up at him. “I can remember you picking it out, but I didn’t _quite_ get to the actual inking.”

“And I wish I hadn’t seen you get all of yours.” Hermann glances down near Newt’s groin. Newt feels his ears burn gently, though his grin simply spreads.

“Well, back to it I guess.” Hermann tries to turn on his heel, though it doesn’t work quite right. He stumbles slightly, his body moving in an awkward jolt to the side. Newton looks down, and his heart jumps.

“New cane, huh?” He fights to keep his tone jovial and hopes that Hermann doesn’t notice how tight it is.

Hermann glances down and then quickly stands a little straighter. “Old one wasn’t providing enough stability. Only made sense to purchase a tripod version. More support and better on uneven terrain; an added benefit seeing as you still insist on flinging your personal items all over.”

“Yeah, that’s not changing anytime soon.” Newton feels his smile slipping some and quickly turns back to his computer. Emoting; he’s gotta keep that in check. “Just make sure you don’t knock it into anything.”

There is a solid thunk to his shoulder and ear at the same time.

“Hey!” He spins around just in time to watch the tripod of Hermann’s cane hit the floor.

“Oops.” This time, Hermann is able to maneuver on his heel, the cane at a slight slant so that only one leg of the tripod is touching the ground. Newton watches him go until he’s sure Hermann can’t see his screen.

He clicks on a closed tab. A series of different columns appear with a different protein chain above each one; 25 in all. Each chain is connected to a different mouse, or at least they were. Many columns read ‘Deceased’ in the first row, but there are three that are still showing as ‘Active’. 

“Almost there,” he whispers to himself as he continues where he left off. All of the surviving mice are having nerve growth, even in spinal trauma. He looks at one of his webcams to see mouse number 12, the one that had previously been unable to use anything below its waist, slowly walk a few steps before laying down to rest. Newton checks its vitals.

 _”So close. I’m so close.”_ He looks back at Hermann, at how carefully he holds his chalk, and how his handwriting is starting to show the tremors.

He flips to another tab, one of the many medical studies he’s been researching. 

_Advancements in Multiple Sclerosis Research and Treatment due to Genetic Splicing with Caudal Autotomy Invertebrates  
By: Mira Chunas_. 

It is one of Mira’s older studies, the Kaiju having appeared soon after. Mostly it’s over how using the genes of some lizards was used in MS treatment to help some nerve tissue repair itself, or at least, slow its damage. He’s sure that Hermann is on one of her medications, though he can’t be sure. Newton didn’t glimpse his prescriptions while he was in Hermann’s memories; just the ache.

He doesn’t need a distinct memory to know that the treatment is failing. Hermann’s nerves are dying. _Hermann_ is dying.

Newton clicks back to Mira’s most current data and looks at the few animals she has worked with. So far, Mira has been able to show that Kaiju DNA can be spliced with some earth genetics. From what she has told Newton, Mira and her team are getting closer to creating Kaiju hybrids, ones that the humans will control. Well, at least until they go Godzilla and are put down.

Looking over the newest set of data, Newton chews his lip. Mira has gone down a different biological path recently, focussing more on mammal capability instead of the Kaiju proteins that are usable. Apparently, a dolphin that helped prove the prolonged body activity before rigor mortis. 

Newt clicks back on his mice. He sees that one ‘Active’ has switched to ‘Deceased’.

“Two shots,” he murmurs as he watches the other mice. “Come on guys, give me something.” Mouse 12 moves another inch and then rests. Its vitals are strong.

Newton looks again at Mira’s compatibility chart and notices that he can now scroll down. There are three new animals. A skink, a Pig, and a Chimpanzee. Two show as compatible though all are deceased.

His heart pics up. 

_”Don’t worry, Herman,”_ he thinks as he clicks on the Chimpanzee, a C next to it. _”You won’t need that cane much longer.”_

Newton begins to read the report. He doesn’t lose another mouse.

\-----------------

“Kaiju protein test one-hundred and sixty-seven,” Newton says loud enough for the camera to hear him. He’s in his ‘secret’ lab, AKA, one of the old ones that had been decommissioned after its walls had been damaged in a Jaeger test. They’re still intact, well, at least mostly. The vents are almost entirely sealed from some sort of expanding epoxy that was used for structural repair. If a full team was working down here it could be a problem, the oxygen flow much lower than the rest of the base. For him and his mice, however, it is perfect. He even has a few cacti and low light plants scattered around just in case.

“Subjects 12 and 18 are both doing well,” he says as he walks around their containment cages. “Like, seriously well. 18 is actually running now. Full out running. His regenerative growth is insane for only two months.”

Newton watches as 18 goes on his wheel, sprinting as hard as his tiny feet can go. 

“Not only that, but the removed portion of his tail is regrowing much quicker than expected. It stopped bleeding almost immediately yesterday after the incision, and already I can see new tissue growth. Even the removed tip had some growth once removed! Fascinating.”

He turns to the second mouse. 

“Twelve also stopped bleeding very quickly. And note to anyone who ever hears this, I was standing by with mousey first aid and gave them both painkillers. Don’t murder me. Besides,” he kneels down to get a better look at the more sluggish mouse. “If what I think is happening is happening, then 12 will have the tip of his tail back at...some point. I think. Might be a little shorter.” He looks at 12 with a critical eye. 

“He’s got most of his mobility back, still sluggish at times, but moving all previously unmovable body parts. Whether his disinterest in physical exercise is because he’s a lazy or the protein makes him sluggish, I’m not sure. His vitals all seem perfectly healthy. 18’s are better, but still, 12 is definitely averaging a steady ‘okay’ in all respects.”

“Both proteins that worked with the mice have been reworked with the data I collected from Mira’s latest discoveries with primate DNA. For the record, she has no idea this is going on. Want to make that clear. Last thing I want is to get ya kicked, Mira.” He winks at the camera. 

“Now, the actual reason for this recording, besides showing off my sexy brain.” Newton makes an exaggerated motion towards his head. “Seeing as it would probably be one hell of a giveaway if I asked around for a disabled chimp, and like hell if I’m going to disable one myself, it looks like it’s about time I put my work to the test.” He looks at the two mice.  
“Which synthesized protein get’s to go in this body of mine? Both of them are viable.” He pulls up two sets of data on a nearby screen and sets them next to one another. “From the few tests I’ve done with fresh samples of my own DNA, either should adhere just fine. Only issue is, since the blood does die, even with the boost from the protein, I don’t know how well it’ll actually work. That, and I’ve got two to choose from, but only one that I can try.”

Newton turns back to the cages.

“18’s got the speed and the power going. So far there has been no tumor growth, no weird secondary issues that I can tell, but it seems almost too good to be true. On the other hand, maybe the Kaiju were just that good. I mean, it seems like their Creators perfected just about everything when building them.”

“12 is still just as viable, though.” He leans down to watch the more sluggish mouse walk over to the food dish where it grabs a pellet and starts eating. “Yeah, there is a slower build-up of the protein, maybe some grogginess when progressing, but still healthy. Again, his lethargy could just be a side-effect, seeing as he still seems to be healing, and just had a new injection. Usually, he’s just as perky as 18 between shots, though… well let me show you.”

Newton takes a screen and points it at the camera.

“18 has a stronger bonding. Possibly why the healing goes so much quicker, and leads to the higher energy. 12’s body, though, responds like it is fighting a virus, but in this case, the virus winning is a good thing.” He zooms in on the blood sample where white blood cells are attacking the protein strands. “They latch onto parts of the protein, but it is still able to replicate quickly enough to heal before the body wins out and kills it.”

18’s blood appears with a swipe of his finger. “18’s just goes with the flow. Full integration, white blood cell count is up, but nothing is attacking. It’s like the body knows there is something foreign but can’t pinpoint it. At the same time, the proteins replication is astounding. So far he hasn’t needed much of a booster to keep the healing factor going, unlike 12, but from my data, it’s most likely due to high metabolism helping the protein replicate quickly.”

Newton stares at the protein information for another couple of minutes. “Whelp, looks like I’ve found my winner.” He taps on 18. “A small dose should be able to fix any minor injuries. I’ve already performed a few tweaks to both formulas, 18’s especially. White blood cells will be able to target it, like 12’s, but still give it enough time to work with the same speed as 18; just without the drawbacks 12 is showing. All I have to do is shoot it near a nervous system, and it’ll go to work, with only a minor introduction into the actual bloodstream, and what’s the downside to some extra healing? Plus, with a lower metabolism and more advanced immune system, the protein will be out of my system in a week.” His smile seems too tight as he picks up the vial with the synthesized product. “I doubt 12’s would last more than a few hours.”

 _”Looks like a blue glow stick,”_ he thinks to himself as he looks at 18’s serum. 12’s serum is a bluish tint as well, but not to the same degree. 

Newton picks up a fresh syringe.

“I’ll be using a ten-milliliter dose of serum 18 to the localized area. If I’m right, then it should be plenty to stop the bleeding, fix any swelling, and start the healing process. Larger areas will need larger doses, but for this, I am confident that ten is enough. I mean, it only took half that for the mice, and I’m going for a localized area that’s just about twice their size.”

Newton sits down next to the two cages and checks that he is still in frame. On the table is a small scalpel, scissors, medical supplies, and a syringe filled with a numbing agent. He begins to clean his hand.

“I’ll be causing nerve damage to my left pinky. Why? Because biologically the only reason we need the damn thing is to reach the shift key.” He taps the numbing agent to check for any bubbles. “Mira, if you see this, I hope you enjoy it, because even with this crap this is gonna hurt.” Newton lays his hand on the table and takes a few deep breaths. “Good thing I don’t mind needles.” The tip sinks in just above the base knuckle. There is a sting, then a coldness, and after a moment, nothing. The numbness slips into his ring finger and palm as well. He stares at his pinky, tries to move it, and can’t. Newton flicks it with his other hand, and again there is nothing in the way of sensation.

“Prepped and numbed,” he says to the camera. Then, more to himself, “Okay. Let’s do this.” The scalpel is a pressure on the base of his pinky finger, the cut being made on the side of his hand. Blood bubbles up in the deep cut, and he quickly grabs the little scissors. He’s looked at enough charts to know where to cut; he hopes. He pushes the thin scissors inside to cut through the muscle, ligaments, and most importantly, nerves. He snipes and immediately grits his teeth. He feels like he might vomit.

“Okay, that kind of suck,” Newton hisses as more blood trickles from the wound and a dull ache spreads through his hand. He makes a fist. All but his pinky follows suit. He bends it, feels the pressure and ache of the pain grow stronger, but it’s only in his palm. From the knuckle up there is almost nothing.

“That was a success, if you can call crippling my hand a success.” Newton keeps his hand on top of a pile of gauze that is rapidly turning red. “Also bleeding quite a bit. Hope I didn’t cut something I shouldn’t of.” A strange laugh slips from him at that. _”I shouldn’t have cut any of that,”_ he tells himself. 

Silence settles in for a moment as he watches himself bleed. He can feel the heat of it, the split in his skin, but there isn’t much in the way of pain if he keeps it still. “Time to get this show on the road,” he murmurs and looks at the syringe.

“Well, Hermann, old boy,” he says to the camera as he picks up the needle. “If you find me down here dead, know that it’s your fault and that if you don’t have Mira finish off my work, I will haunt your ass. Hell, I may do it anyways; see what kind of algorithm you can come up with to talk to the spirit world. If this works, though, then I get your Dad’s chicken recipe and to know where you put that tattoo.”

Newton holds the needle against his skin, on the opposite side of his pinky, so it is away from the cut. He doesn’t want to bleed it all out.

“Here we go.” 

The plunger goes down slowly, and the blue disappears. For a moment, he thinks he can see it spread under the skin before it disperses. 

“No turning back now,” he says as he stares at his finger. Only a dozen seconds or so go by before he leans down to look. Is the bleeding slowing? 

“Well damn,” he breathes. He lifts his hand to the camera. “Will you look at that.” The blood is slowing, significantly. He pats away some with the gauze and finds that the blood is only oozing. He shows the camera again.

“Superior coagulants,” he says with a smile. “Hot damn. Now, we wait.” He starts to wrap up the hand. “Observations will be recorded every fifteen minutes from here on out.” He reaches up and turns off the camera and then the secondary recorder on the table. 

“Fuck,” he says as he rubs his face. His glasses tremble as he sets them back in place. 

“Alright, 18,” he says as he looks at the mouse. “Let’s see what this serum of yours can do.”

18 just keeps running. Newton makes a small mental note that he hasn’t stopped the entire time he’s been recording.

\----

Newton wakes up on the cot in his lab. He immediately lifts the recorder that is clenched in his hand and hits record.

“Hey, good news, I woke up.” He gives a yawn. “Can’t tell if the current sluggishness is because it took me for fucking ever to fall asleep, or my bodies response to the protein.”

Sitting up, he looks down at his wrapped finger and flexes. It moves, though it is still extremely sore and stiff.

“The finger looks like it’s healing alright, and if it keeps going like this then-”

Newton’s finger bumps into the bridge of his nose as he tries to grab his glasses and wipe away the smudges that are making them so fuzzy. He tries again, thinking he may have just missed. There is only his face.

“What the hell?” Shocked, he looks to the crate next to the cot. There, on the crate, are his glasses. He shouldn’t be able to see those, not with his eyesight, they should be lost to him in the fuzz.

“Update,” he says shakily into the mic. “The protein has made its way to the ocular nerve. How do I know? Because I can actually tell what I’m looking at without my glasses on instead of having the world render as an expressionist painting.” He picks up said glasses and looks through them. The world goes wonky in a way he can’t describe. “And my glasses look like they’re going to be more of a hindrance than a help from now on.”

Newton swings his legs over the side of the cot, the recorder tight in his fist. “This is amazing! I never thought about the possibility of regenerating ocular nerves! Could this work on hearing too? I mean.” He starts jabbing his good pinky finger into his ear before stopping himself.

“Okay, slow down,” he tells himself. “Deafening myself might be going a little overboard here. I don’t even know how well this is going to work on the ocular nerve, and those are not the same as audio and… I need to message Mira.”

Newton starts off towards the computers, recorder switched off under his thumb. He is almost there before he pauses. Is it too early? If he tells her now what would happen? 

“Either she has me thrown into a lab or...she has me thrown into a lab.” He sighs. “Shit.” He drags his hand through his hair and jumps a little. Newton doesn’t have to use his improved vision to tell that his nails are a few millimeters longer. How does he know? Because he can’t remember them ever being over the tips of his fingers; not for years. Working in a lab means short nails at all times. These nails are not short.

The recorder clicks on. “Exaggerated nail growth and-” Newton pauses to look cross-eyed at the bangs drooping into his face. “Hair growth.”

He shifts his pants, the jeans feeling tight and uncomfortable. He bites back the groan, because fuck if he needs that recorded. “Also, uh…” he clears his throat. Does he really need to record this? He realizes that yes, yes he probably should. “Heightened morning arousal. Guess the black market wasn’t kidding when they said Kaiju stuff boosts potency.” He lets out an odd little laugh. He hopes he hits the pause button quick enough to choke it off on the recording. 

“Shit,” he breathes as he touches his hair again. It is definitely longer, his nails are longer, his eyesight sharper, and the way his toes bump the inside of his shoes tells him that his toenails have followed in the same growth pattern. 

Uncurling his fingers from the recorder is almost painful. He had held it all night, and even now his fingers itch to turn it back on. Right now, though, Newton needs to type up his finds. As he squints at the screen, his eyes actually able to make out the fuzzy letters, he grins. Now and again he tries to push up his missing glasses, purely out of habit. Each time he does his smile gets wider.

“There, I think that’s everything,” he tells himself as he once again finds himself adjusting his pants. His morning erection is still prominent. He jots down another note.

“Guess I should go take care of this.” He heads into the bathroom connected to the lab. He decides against adding another note that the orgasm he quickly brings himself to is one of the best self-inflicted ones he’s ever had, and it was all with just his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I tried to get some French in here, as the OC I created to balance out this insanity is from France. I do not speak French, I speak a decent amount of Spanish, but not French, so this was interesting. I'm very sorry if I got what little I used wrong.
> 
> Besides that, I hope you enjoy Newton being an idiot!

“Where are your glasses?”

Newton glances up from his work desk. Hermann is looking at him with a raised brow. 

“Ever heard of contacts?” Newton replies with a grin. So far, he’s been able to pass the lie off easily. A few of his fellow scientists have asked about the contacts leaching chemicals out of the air, but he’s waved it away. All his current research doesn’t involve anything like that, and he had been wanting to try them. It’s the perfect cover!

He even made a note on his calendar to schedule a LASIK eye correction procedure as a cover just in case his eyes continue to get better. Seeing as the words aren’t as blurry as they were this morning, he’s assuming that he’ll have to.

“I have to admit, I never thought you’d get those coke-bottles off your face.”

“Coke bottles?” Newton frowns. “My lenses were not that thick.”

“Thicker than mine.” Hermann smirks. 

“Hey, just because you were born with the gift of sight doesn’t mean you need to rub it in.” 

Hermann continues to give a superior smile to Newton as he walks towards his station. “How goes the brain mapping?” he calls as he stops before a large chalkboard.

“How goes your face?” Newton snaps back.

“Well, my cleansing regimen keeps it clear like my head. Wish I could say the same to you.” Hermann looks up at the blackboard, hand hovering over the chalk markings as he reviews them. “Just thought you’d have more to show seeing as you weren’t in your room last night.”

Newton’s head snaps up. “Huh? How would...” he trails off as he watches Hermann.

“I had one of those...lapses.” 

Okay, curiosity peaked. “Lapses?”

“You know, when we end up at the other's door without rhyme or reason.” He is still looking over his calculations.

“Pretty sure the rhyme is ‘Drift’ and the reason is ‘Drift’,” Newton replies.

Hermann sighs and rubs at his eyes, hand tight on his cane. Newton can see his fingers turn white for a moment and smirks. 

“Yes, well, I ended up there last night, around midnight, and-”

“Why were you there at midnight?”

Hermann shifts slightly. “I couldn’t sleep,” he replies. “Those blasted dreams again.”

“The throat?”

Hermann nods. “Yes, the those. I had one that bled into I think one of your memories, something about a pet lizard, but it ended up trying to eat me.”

“Aw, Kaiju wouldn’t have eaten you.”

“You named your lizard ‘Kaiju’?”

Newton shrugs, “She wasn’t big enough to be Godzilla, and I was a kid, give me a break. I didn’t know we were going to be invaded by giant monsters later.”

“Well, after Kaiju tried to eat me, I decided to go for a walk and stretch my legs. I ended up at your door instead of my own. Must have been due to the memory surfacing.”

“Suuuure it was. Not like you missed me or anything,” Newton teases.

“Must you be an insufferable ass?”

Newton opens his mouth.

“Don’t answer that; having been in your head for even a brief time has already given me the resounding ‘yes’ I need.”

Newton can’t keep the smile off his face. “Alright, so you showed up at my door, what of it?”

“Well, when I didn’t find you in your room, I decided to see what it is you do so late in the labs. But, you weren’t here.” He looks over at him. “What sort of midnight oil have you been burning, Newton?”

Newton feels his throat go dry. Uhhh...UHHHH… Houston, we have a problem, and it’s none other than the same being who started this whole cyclical cycle of secrecy and bullshit. 

“Guy can’t go out and get a drink?”

“I know you when you drink. You’re more of an unbearable plasma-phile than usual, and your face always looks like it was dunked inside of a pickling jar.”

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared,” Newton teases. 

“It’s not so much caring as curiosity at what you' have been up to.” He looks at him with a stern eye. “Mira told me about the toothpaste incident, Newton. It makes me wonder what else you’ve been working on outside of our little space.”

Whelp, his heart has found a new place in his throat, because fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. _“Come up with something. Something believable, something—”_

“Guy can’t get laid?” pops out of his mouth before he can think of anything else. 

Hermann turns to him in surprise. His eyes are wide, his shock apparent, and Newton isn’t sure if he should be upset up smug at the look.

“I could invite you next time if you wanted; put that cane to use.” He waggles his eyebrows while Hermann’s face goes a touch pink.

“Must you be so crass?” Hermann shakes himself a little, like his body is settling back into his usual flippant demeanor. “I hope whoever it was had the sense to kick you out after.”

“Aw, would you kick me out after Hermann?”

“There wouldn’t be an after seeing as there wouldn’t even be a start.” He is back looking at his calculations. Newton smiles to himself. There, now he should leave him alone for a bit. 

The rest of his day goes relatively well. Hermann keeps his nose in his own work, and Newton actually finds himself able to focus on his true objective. Not that it does much. He had thought separating a Kaiju brainwave from a human one would be easy, but there is just too much interference, and he can’t tell from who. Was this spike from him, Herman, or the Kaiju collective? Were Kaiju brain waves on the same level as them? Was that why Newton had been able to drift with it in the first place?

He only leaves his desk to seek food, sugar, and jerks off two more times during the day. Both times are as good as the first, and if not for his new drive in trying to figure out the mind maps, he’d probably take a damn nap. But his refractory period ends quickly, and he ends up feeling almost refreshed by the endorphin rushes. 

“Try not to sleep on your desk again,” Hermann calls as he goes to leave. Newton looks up in time to see him, tired and slightly pale, heading for the door. A look at the clock tells him it’s not even 6 pm yet. Still, late for a usual 9-5, but Hermann used to stay until well past 7 only a month ago; later during the Kaiju threat.

He frowns to himself. “You stay in your own bed,” he calls back, trying to keep his voice light, but it sounds a bit more like a demand. Hermann doesn’t respond as he walks out of the lab, the door shutting solidly behind him. 

A few hours later, and with little progress, Newton flops back in his chair and groans. He’s blocked, whether by lack of data or his own mind he's not sure. He needs a sounding board, someone who he can talk to about DNA, brain waves, and all that junk. There is only one person he even considers as he starts clicking on his desktop.

Newton clicks into the in-network chat client for the scientists and quickly heads to the contact list on his computer. As he expects, there is a little green circle next to Mira’s name in the sea of gray. He clicks it and hits the call button.

The video starts after the second ring. “Unless you actually have something to offer my investigations, I suggest you end this call right now.”

“Aw, come on Mira, when have I ever wasted your time?” 

“I can hit end for you, Newt,” she tells him, her French accent thicker in her annoyance, and she gives him an unamused look.Her hair is almost buzzed short, the tight black curls a halo over her dark toffee complexion. Mira's eyes are ringed in red, and Newton can only guess how he looks, or well, would usually look this late on a workday. He feels wide awake, energized, and he knows that if it had been a typical, Kaiju DNA free day, he'd look just as exhausted. 

“Alright, alright, no pleasantries. Jeez, you used to be fun.”

“Yes, well that was before I had the world governments breathing down my neck."

"That bad?"

Mira groans, "We still haven’t been able to create a full DNA splice that hasn’t killed a host or died within an artificial womb.” She rubs long fingers over her scalp, massaging at her skull as she sighs. “We got close with the primate and skink DNA we tried, but there was a breakdown somewhere, just like all the others.”

“Sounds rough,” Newton replies, doing his best to hide the little spike of fear that ripples through him. _‘She’s working with full DNA, I’ve just got proteins, not the same thing.’_ Still, he rubs absently at his pinky. It’s sore, but it can move, and the cut looks just like a large, fresh purple scar; weeks of healing in less than a day.

“Have you tried human DNA?”

“You know the answer to that, Newt.” She throws a glare at him. “Human DNA is not to be used unless all other tests fail. They don’t want to create something that could possibly have the same mental capacity, possibly more, than a human.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t it open up some new possibilities for your work? I mean, if primate DNA worked well, then-”

“Newton.” Her voice is a warning.

“Alright, alright. Sorry.” He puts his hands up, and Mira seems to relax slightly. 

“Once you get a solid bond, how long will it take for you to start full trials?” Newton tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible.

“Years, and what did I say about wasting my time?”

“Come on, Mira, whatever happened to talking about our work together? Helping one another out when we get stuck?” He gives the camera a sweet smile and bats his eyes.

“You’re still working on that cure, aren’t you.”

The smile immediately falls, and he shifts in his chair. “Nothing gets past you,” Newton grumbles.

She smacks her lab table, and he can hear the tinkle of glass jingling.“Bon sang, Newton, we have jobs to do! There’s no time to go off and do whatever it is you’re dicking around with. The kaiju could be back at any time!” 

“Come on, Mira, it’s just a side project,” he whines. “It’s not-”

“It’s a distraction, a big one, and I know you realize that. If you were pumping any of the time you spent on your ‘side project’ into the brain mapping, then you’d be done by now!”

“Except that it’s impossible!” Newton throws up his hands. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is trying to untangle not one, not two, but three sets of brainwaves? I’ve tried mapping my own and Hermann’s separately, but it does diddly shit without the crossover. I can find parts of the Kaiju mindset, but without knowing that meld, its-”

“Then get off your ass and drift with Hermann again.” She stares at him, not giving him a metaphorical inch.

“You don’t get it, Mimi, I just… I can’t. I could feel his pain, how-”

“Don’t you Mimi, me, Newton. I know how much you want to fix him, but right now, we _need_ you to focus, to do what needs to be done, drifting included. Your side work is fascinant, and you know that I want to jump into it with you.” Her sincerity makes him uncomfortable. “What you found is what I _live_ for. Improving the human body, fixing our flaws, not creating Frankenstein’s monsters out of Kaiju bits mixed with pieces of other animals. But that is what I need to do, what I’m being paid to do, so I’m going to do it. And you,” she points at the screen. “You need to finish your brain mapping. Without it, I am stuck with creatures who are about as brainless as you after four shots of absinthe. Without it, I may as well be making monsters.”

“I know, I know and believe me, I’m working on it. But…” Newton drags his hand through his hair, feels the tips of his nails and mentally notes it for later. He had just cut them. “Hermann's illness is progressing, Mimi.” His voice comes out more strained than he expected. “He’s shaking, sleeping more, or unable to sleep, and he got a new cane!” Newton’s face feels unpleasantly warm as he leans forward. “Whatever it is that you came up with last decade, it’s not doing enough to stem it anymore. He’ll be using a walker soon,” he murmurs, voice miserable. 

Mira’s face goes from unimpressed to somewhat sympathetic. An almost inaudible sigh slips from her as she laces her fingers together and lets her posture relax.

“Newton, I find Hermann brilliant as well, but even if you do find the right mix, it’ll still be years before it is ready for use on humans. One good mix means nothing. The testing has to go on for at least one to two years in a non-human subject before it can even be considered for human trials, and even then, there’s the genetic coding, the red tape, more animal trials and...Newt?”

Newton sits up a little straighter. “What?”

“You’re wearing the ‘I’m proud because I've done something incredibly stupid’ smile.”

Newton is suddenly aware of the smirk on his face, which he quickly drops. “That’s not a face I make.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No it’s-”

“You made the same face when you figured out how to use Kaiju blue to make toothpaste glow.”

“Hey! Having toothpaste that shows you exactly where you miss brushing is ingenious.”

“Says the man that I had to resuscitate after he used it for a week and gave himself accidental glycoalkaloid poisoning from ingesting too much tainted toothpaste.” She stares at him steadily through the screen.

That hadn’t been his proudest moment, but damn it, he still thought they could create some excellent toothpaste if given the change.

“Not the point, Mira, but-”

“That is EXACTLY the point, Newton!” Her sudden yell startles him, all sympathy gone. “You get so caught up with anything Kaiju that you never seem to realize that it could kill you! Not wearing gloves, masks, handling body parts half hazardly and leaving food next to experiments! Mixing samples with everyday things ‘just because’. For all I know you’ve gone and started animal testing.”

Newton knows he should try and deny that, he really should, but Mira catches the pause before he even gets a chance.

“You haven’t,” Mira murmurs, eyes wide with surprise.

“Well...see, I figured out this chain and thought, ‘Hey! Let’s see if there are any defective mice’, and just kinda...you know.”

“"Mais quel idiot!” She stands, the computer shaking. This time when he hears glass tinkle he also hears something fall and shatter. Mira pays it little mind. “You performed animal experiments!?”

“Uh...maaaaaybe?” He flinches from the glare he receives.

“You’ve never done ANYTHING like that with a team, let alone by yourself. Have you even considered what could happen?”

“You mean besides creating a cure?”

“Oui!” He can’t tell what’s shaking more; Mira, or the laptop. “You could end up creating a new invasive species! Or create a new disease strain by testing on an infected specimen! Please tell me you at least used our testing subjects, the ones who are kept quarantine from diseases.”

“Uh, well, there was a sale at the pet store down-”

“Bon Dieu!” She digs her fingers into her scalp. “When the little bastard breaks out with Kaiju strength or acid vomit, don’t come crying to me!”

Newt blinks. “You think they could develop acid vomit?”

Mira lets out a few swears in French, ones that even Newton doesn’t know. She finally looks at him.

“I knew it; you didn’t think this through at all! Are you completely insane? How many specimens do you have? Where are they? Are they secure? Do you even have fail safes!?”

“Would you relax! Of course,I have fail-safes.” He leans back and crosses his arms. “They’re in the basement, only two are left, and I cremated the rest AND,” he cuts in before Mira can. “I made sure to collect all ashes ran them through an acid bath, checked for any weird reactions, and then disposed of it with other toxic waste that won’t go into a normal dump.”

Mira glares at him, her dark irises glinting like polished tiger’s eye. “Where in the basement are they?”

“One of the old Kaiju bunkers that were decommissioned after the Jaeger quake back in 2019. You can only get in one way, and unless you have the code, the door stays sealed.”

“And you didn’t think there was a reason why they sealed those off from the public?”

“It was just some spider cracks. All the walls are load bearing, still, and-”

“And if there is another earthquake, Jaeger made or natural, you are mort.”

Newt bites his lip. Damn it.

“Of course you realized that,” she sighs.

They sit with only the hums of their respective labs in the background.

“Send me the data,” she finally grumbles.

“What?”

“Send me your data. I’ve got to make sure you don’t go killing yourself, or anyone else, doing something stupid.”

Newton’s face splits. “Oh my god, you’re going to flip. The protein chains are unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. The coagulation is-”

“More than ten times that of any known animal, I know, I read your original report.” She looks at her screen, waiting. “I do assume you’re using my research as a basis.”

“Some of it,” Newt replies as he quickly sets up an encrypted e-mail.

“Well don’t use it to get yourself in trouble. The last thing I need is a guilty conscience after you create some crazed creature.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re going to love this.” He squints at one of his docs, making sure of the number before sending it off.

“Where are your glasses?” Mira asks, eyes trained back on his video feed.

Newton smiles. “Contacts,” he tells her.

“And here I thought you’d be wearing those frames until you died.” She squints a bit. “Though that explains the color.”

“Color?”

Mira doesn’t seem to hear him as she looks just off camera. Newton’s heart speeds up. She’s opened the file and begins to read.

“So?” He feels like he might just vibrate off his chair.

“I want my name on the paper after I fix this insanity you call a formula,” Mira replies. She’s already typing.

Newton feels like his face might split.

“How are the two candidates you have doing?”

“You tell me.” He sends a second e-mail, this one with the port and login for the cameras. Mira signs in quickly and gasps. “They’re stats are phénoménal.”

“Pretty cool, right?”

Mira clears her throat, tries to get back her demeanor, and fails as she clicks rapidly through his data. A grin is spread wide over her face.

“Look at them. 12’s temperature is a little high, but it looks so healthy! And 18’s temperature is a little low, but- Oh my God, Newt,” her voice drops in volume, but the tone goes a tad high. “What’s happening to its tail?”

“What?”

Newton clicks over to the cameras. 12 looks fine, tired, but okay, and their temp is up a little. 18 though, is running about as energetic as ever. It isn't until it stops by its food disk that Newton is able to see the series of small dark dots spreading from the tip of its tail. The new growth coming from the tip’s stub is completely blue, with purple mixing at the base. And is the very end...glowing?

Newton blanches. “When the fuck did that happen?” he asks the air.

“Look at its eyes.” Mira points at her own computer screen, face mesmerized by the mouse that is eating at an absurd rate.

Newton does. The pink is now purple, parts almost purely blue.

“I think you may have done my job for me,” Mira murmurs as she watches her screen. “I’ll need the rest of your research for this. Whatever proteins you used might be what we need to-” she breaks off. “Are you alright?”

Newt swallows against the vomit sitting in the back of his throat. “Fine.” His voice comes out way too high.

“Newt? Newton what’s wrong, what-”

“Gotta go, need to check on the mice, bye!”

“New-” The feed clicks off, and Newton sits stalk still in his chair. On the screen he watches the now blue tinged mouse. The call button appears on his desktop, but he ignores it. 18 looks up at the camera, nose sniffing, and the pink looks like it has a hint of purple to it.

“It’s mutating.” 

Newton looks down at his pinky, at the skin, and tries to figure out if the purple of his scar is natural bruising or something else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only other language I speak (using that term loosely because I rarely get to speak it) is Spanish, so I am SO SORRY if I get the French in this wrong. Please feel free to let me know if I am using any conjugations incorrectly.

The blue circles around his irises are light, very light, but not so light that he can’t see them. It looks like the film of a contact in a way, which makes them easy to explain, but easy doesn’t make the panic go away. His pinky, while moving fully now, and without pain, still has a purple tint to it and he’s pretty damn sure the color has spread to his ring finger’s first knuckle. It looks like he punched something, or something fell on his hand. Both viable excuses, but for how long? And if the color continues to spread then…

“Fuck.” Newton grabs both sides of the sink and breathes. He can smell the leftover toothpaste that has dried at the bottom of the bowl, under the stopper, and the sweet scent of decaying things down the drain. From his trash can, he can smell old lotion, the bad breath stained strands of floss, and all manner of personal items. The jump in his sense of smell had happened overnight, much like his eyes. They are now practically 20/20, if not better. He can’t be sure, seeing as Newton has never had 20/20 vision; at least not naturally.

His eyes are the most worrying bit so far. Minor fixing made sense, seeing as the nerves in his eyes would have been damaged from blue light off of electronics, multiple explosions he had stared at a little too hard, and just age; but 20/20? There is no way to have that from nerve regeneration. It means that the actual lens is changing, shifting, into something that is crystal clear and useable. It is also blue. Blue, a color that Newton is quickly coming to fear. 

He drags his hands over his cheeks and feels the stubble that has already grown back from last night. He’s also gained another quarter inch to his hair, at least. Shit. That’s going to be a little harder to explain. 

Newton looks at his shaving kit. Inside are a pair of sharp silver scissors. 

“Maybe if I…” He picks them up and looks at himself. “If I gel it back, I can hide the top, and if I just-” He snips the longer hair of his sideburns. It takes a few times to get it even, but it’s not _too_ bad. The back’s a little trickier. It takes two sets of mirrors to even get at his nape, and even then he ends up stabbing himself a couple of times. 

“That’ll have to do,” he grumbles as he looks at the back of his head. The cut is a little choppy, lopsided, but not horrible. His mother gave him worse as a child. Newton uses toilet paper to clean up the back of his neck and finds that barely any red comes with it.

He pushes the record button on his recorder.

“Small lacerations on the back of my neck caused by an impromptu haircut started coagulating almost instantly. Already there is a sign of possible scabbing.” He sighs. “I’m turning into the goddamn Wolverine.” _’Or something else,’_ his brain adds. Newton does his best to ignore it and shuts off his recorder. 

18 hasn’t shown any other mutation besides the severed tip of the tail, their eyes, and the tip of their nose. The paws might be slightly more scalley, but besides that, he’s still a mouse. A mouse with a blue tail. 12’s tail has started to regenerate, the flesh pink, and the eyes and nose haven’t had any change in color. 

“I chose the wrong serum,” Newton murmurs. He shifts, and just the random scrap of cloth on his loins sends his body humming with need. Pressing his forehead to his mirror, he takes in deep breathes. Willing away the erection only does so much. The physical symptom may dissipate, but his groin still aches.

“Get it together,” he murmurs. “Have to see if I can’t reverse this shit.”

He looks at 12’s video feed; still healthy, still healing, and notes how they seem a little more spry. “I’ll choose the right mouse this time.”

He waits a few more minutes to leave, doing his best to calm his nerves while packing up his laptop. Newton had slept in his own room after checking on the mice, afraid that Hermann might take another midnight stroll. He hadn’t, thank god, but sleeping in his own cot had been a small comfort after learning about his mutations. The door to his room closes with a solitary thud behind him.

“There you are.”

“Jesus!” Newton just about throws the computer bag.

“No, I believe his second coming has still yet to happen.” Hermann wears an infuriating smirk. “Though, with the strings I pulled you may be calling me that here in just a bit.”

“What?” Fuck, he needs to get back down to the lab. He has to see what his own blood samples did over the course of the night; how everything has responded. Maybe if he introduced the secondary serum, boosted his white blood cell count, then maybe he can counteract the first. It’s wistful thinking, but...

“I have been given the okay by our superiors to perform a drift this morning,” Hermann says, cutting into Newton’s thoughts.

Newton has the sudden urge to puke.

“Well don’t jump for joy all at once.” Hermann stands straighter, nose up. “And here I thought I’d get at least a thank you.”

“Oh- whoa,” Newton starts the backpedaling process. “No, thank you for that, it’s just-” _‘Come on brain, need an idea here!’_ “I’ve got some stuff to go over with Mira. We think that something she’s working on might-”

“She’ll understand if you’re late, plus the addition of my wits may be of use.” He grabs Newton’s shoulder with his free hand, which still has a decent grip to it, and starts leading him down the hall towards their lab. “Her work relies on yours as well, Newton. Besides, I’d rather do this earlier in the day; let your memories run out of my head before I go to bed. I have no desire to relive your life on loop while I sleep.”

“B-but time won’t make any difference. And wouldn’t it make more sense to do it _later_ in the day?” 

“Not for me,” Hermann replies. “I am fresh, I am ready, and waiting will only have the drift take a larger toll.”

“Can I eat breakfast first?” Newton does his best to keep the squeak out of his voice.

“And risk you or I vomiting?” Hermann scoffs. “I think not.”

“You’re the only one who got sick,” Newton tries.

“Doesn’t mean you won’t.” He keeps pulling him along, cane thumping along next to them.

 _’Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay. Calm down. If I just concentrate on something that is NOT the mutating mouse in the basement, then I’ll be fine. Just have to think about other stuff; like food, or the brain mapping, or how the lenses of my eyes are turning blue.’_ Newton bites back a sound of dismay. He is so screwed. 

He does his best not to act like a dead-man walking on their way to the lab. Maybe he can sabotage the equipment during setup? Give himself a few extra hours. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do, he’ll— But that idea dies the second he walks in. There, already set up, is the drift machine. Two chairs, two helmets, and a trash can set next to both. 

“You already set it up?”

“You’ve been asleep for ages, Newton, of course I did.”

“It’s barely past 8!”

“And I had to be up to speak with our benefactors,” Hermann replies. “Now put on the helmet. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can be out of each other's skulls.”

“Are you sure we can’t-”

Hermann thunks his cane against the back of Newton’s knees, making Newton stumble. He just barely manages to keep himself upright with help from one of the chairs. 

“Alright! Jesus, what are you trying to do? Give me a concussion?”

Hermann starts to settle himself into his chair. “If I were trying for that, I would have hit you in the head.” The cane stands next to him, the tripod legs allowing it to balance even without Hermann’s hand. Newton looks at it and feels a sudden spike of hatred at the polished metal and wood. He could probably snap it in half, just grab it, slam it down on a table and—

 _“Yeah, add vivid daydreams of destroying his shit to the list of things to hide from Hermann. Great job brain.”_ Newton sighs and settles into his own chair.

The helmet feels much too heavy as Newton places it on his head. _”Just keep your thoughts to yourself and you’ll be fine,”_ he tells himself. Only that’s the exact opposite of a drift. A high, nervous sound comes from his throat. As quickly as it starts, he chokes it off.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine!” He gives Hermann the biggest grin he can force onto his face. “Just fine! About to have my co-worker jump back into my skull and poke around, but besides that I’m 100% hunky-dory.”

“You’re acting like you’d rather do this with a Kaiju again,” Hermann scoffs.

 _”Would probably be safer,”_ Newton thinks. Leaning back in his chair, Hermann closes his eyes. He needs to concentrate on something, anything, other than his experiments when they get started. That’s when the most information is passed between the two. All he has to do is think of something else, something _not_ kaiju, something-

“And we begin.” Hermann hits the button.

“Wa-” Newton falls back in his chair, breath taken away as his neurons fire along with Hermann’s. Images flit through his brain. Hermann as a child, running about an all-boys school in his little uniform, writing equations even adults would be baffled by as a teenager, making love to someone bent over a desk in a college dorm. Newton keeps going down into the memories, into their minds, chasing each other, feeling each other, _being_ one another. There is no seam between them. It is them, one, and a shudder of pain rip through him as he feels his _-Hermann’s?-_ body ache against his deteriorating muscles. He groans with a pulse from their _-my?-_ groin as the memories of taking a lover from behind is painted in a blue glow. Beautiful, luminescent blue that pulls them together in a slapping of skin until—

The machine shuts down, the memories slow, but they do not stop. More recent snippets flit through his skull; Hermann getting the cane, yesterday’s lunch, the nightmares. 

Newton finds himself both looking down into a bucket and staring at the ceiling. He feels pain in every inch of his body and the ache of orgasm in every nerve.

“You idiot.” It comes out in surround sound with two mouths. “What did you do?”

 _”I wanted to save you,”_ he thinks and feels Hermann’s sob in his own chest as a response.

With shaking hands, Newton reaches up and pushes off the helmet. It doesn’t matter. He can still feel Hermann in him; a throb in his joints that echoes in his blood. 

_”What did you do to me?”_ he hears in his head; sharp and stitching itself into him.

Newton doesn’t know how to respond to that. Hell, he’s not even sure he _can_ respond. His brain is too busy trying to figure out which limbs are his, if the taste of bile in his throat is actually there, which of them is coming down off of orgasm, and why it feels so good to feel two different heartbeats in his chest.

Giving a long, slow blink, Newton finds himself looking at...himself?

A hand cracks across his face and two people cry out. Two, not one. What the fuck is going on? He thuds back into his head, body shuddering with the realization that he is him and Hermann is standing above him, tears and snot running down his cheeks and chin.

“You stupid bastard!” he screeches. “You could have killed yourself! Using untested Kaiju DNA to-”

“It was tested,” Newton slurs. God his cheek hurts. So does the rest of him. 

“On a MOUSE!” Hermann shakes him, hard, and Newton can feel the rage coming off of him in waves.

Tilting his head back, Newton looks up at him through half closed, unfocused eyes. 

_”Why would you do this for me?”_ echoes inside of him.

“Because yer’ma frend,” Newton manages. His brain can’t take this. There is too much stimuli coming in; it doesn’t matter if it's an echo, or that he can feel a thudding in his chest that doesn’t match his own sluggish heartbeat.

“Newton.” Hermann’s voice is shaking.

“Don’ be scared.” Newton reaches up and touches Hermann’s face. Hermann grabs his hand and presses it harder into his cheek. “I’ll fix it.” He grins. “Fix you.” 

He lets a veil of blue pass over him, swallow him, and hears Hermann yelling his name all the way down.

\----------

“He’s a complete idiot.” 

Newton looks out at Mira, his mind floaty and placid. 

_”Hi.”_

Mira’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“Hi? Hermann, are you alright? Or-”

Mira disappears, and Newton finds himself staring at the back of his eyelids. Or...are they his?

“He’s waking up,” Hermann responds. “Or at least he bloody better be.”

 _”But I’m awake.”_ he tries to open his eyes and thrashes. 

“Whoa!” Mira cries.

“Not. Me.”

 _”Hermann, I can’t open my eyes, man. Why can’t I open my-”_

Pain cracks across his face.

“For Christ sake, Mira!” Hermann hisses.

Newton clutches at his cheek, his body laying sideways on—

“Your bed,” Hermann finishes for him.

“Did you feel that?” Mira’s voice holds at least several levels of awe.

“Yes!” Newton hears his voice in stereo, only one of the speakers sounds surprisingly British.

“Oh my god, you weren’t exaggerating.” 

“Of course not!” This time, Newton becomes the other speaker. 

Newton peeks out between his lashes and finds Hermann sitting in a chair, hand on his face. The skin looks red, but more like a flush than the bruise that is most definitely covering Newton’s cheek, or maybe just healing. Probably healing. He fights the urge to get up and take a look.

Hermann looks tired, extremely tired, and he _hurts_. Newton can feel the ache of Hermann’s body in movements; a thrum in his joints and muscles that radiates outwards into the very skin. He reaches out for Hermann and just about falls off the bed, hell he would have if not for Mira’s hands. Hermann tilts in his chair, eyes wide as he looks at Newton.

 _”I didn’t know it was so bad,”_ he thinks. Hermann looks away.

“Newton, are you all here now?” Mira asks as she holds him by the shoulders and pushes him back into a sitting position. 

“Yeah, pretty sure that smack to the face did it.” He shrugs off her hands and pushes himself up. Exhaustion sits in his blood, thick as syrup and sticking in his capillaries. “You should sleep,” he says to Hermann.

“And how should I do that when I have your flitting through my skull?” Hermann hisses.

“No one is sleeping until we figure out what you two did.”

“Two! I had nothing to do with this idiocy!” Hermann’s heartbeat is a hollow echo against Newton’s sternum; his rage a gentle simmer in his skin. “If I had any idea of what he was doing I would have turned him in months ago!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Newton grumbles. 

“If you’d had a little less confidence, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” 

Newton feels his face snarl without his actual input. 

“Oh mon Dieu,” Mira whispers. Her fingers shove under Newton’s lips and push up before he has much time to respond.

“The hell are you doing?” Hermann asks for him, Newton unable to as he tries, and fails, to bat her insistent fingers away.

“His gums are turning purple,” Mira replies. Newton freezes. “And look at this.” She points to something that Newton cannot see.

“‘At? ‘At is et?” Newton whines, eyes wide as Hermann raises up with his cane and comes over to look. 

“Good lord,” he murmurs. “Are those—”

“New teeth coming in? Yes, I believe they are.”

Newton jerks his mouth away from her hands and lurches towards the mirror. He lifts up his lips, pushing them back, and Mira is right; the flesh is a light purple, almost like he had been drinking grape kool-aid. Above his canines, Hermann can see small lumps. He pushes at one. There is an ache to it, and when he pushes on the canine below it, a small trickle of blood appears around the base of the tooth.

“No, no no no no. The protein was only supposed to affect nerve and tissue growth,” Newton groans. 

“Well, as you can see, it’s doing a lot more than that,” Hermann snaps.

“Going to guess you aren’t wearing contacts either.”

Newton shakes his head, hands still prodding into his mouth. Is his tongue darker? His tongue looks darker. The whites of his eyes are definitely bluer. His belly growls as he continues to poke into his mouth.

“We need to eat,” Hermann says.

“We?” Mira’s voice is unamused.

“He, me, I can’t tell, Mira! His stomach growls so does mine.” 

Newton feels the ghost of fingers brushing on his temples. Behind him, he sees Hermann rubbing at his own skull.

“Do we have any idea what’s going on?” Newton asks as he watches them both in the mirror, searching for other developments. 

“Isn’t it obvious, Newton,” Hermann asks, a snarl on his face like nothing Newton’s ever seen. A matching one flashes at him in the mirror, only on his face.

“You got your damn hive mind!” It comes out of both mouths.

“What?” Rage and confusion fight over his faces, face, fuck. 

“Whatever you did to your body chemistry, when you drifted with Hermann, you made a connection,” Mira provides.

“But it was only supposed to spur—”

“Tissue and nerve growth, I know! I’ve been pouring over your notes since Hermann contacted me.” Mira is giving him a glare that could very well break the mirror he’s staring into.

“How, you don’t know my pass—”

“Kaiju Blue Goo. No spaces, all vowels are numbers, and the K, B, and G are capitalized.” Mira looks at him steadily, her face furious and smug.

“H-how?”

“Because you’re an idiot who recycles the same damn phrase until you can’t tell it’s a word anymore!”

 _”She did lock herself out twice.”_

“Twice!” Newton yelps. Hermann’s eyebrows shoot up, and Mira looks between them. “How long have I been out?”

“Just over eight hours,” Mira replies as she sits on the bed, a hand rubbing into her buzzed scalp. 

“Who else knows?”

“No one you twat,” Hermann snaps. “If they did, you’d be locked in a pen somewhere with electrodes on your head and a thermometer in your arse.”

Something about the idea isn’t too horrible to Newton, or maybe Hermann, though both of their faces are warm. 

“Then what do we do?” Newton asks.

“You are going down to your lab,” Mira says, standing. “ _Your_ lab. We already put in a false plan of travel to the American district. They have no notice of it, so as long as we have you send in your reports under a US IP, it’ll be a while until anyone realizes you’re not actually in America.”

“And while that’s happening?” Newton stops fiddling with his face and looks right at her through the reflection. 

“You and I are going to go over every strand, every chromosome, until we can revert you back.”

_”If we can.”_

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Herm.”

“Can you just turn that off,” Hermann snaps.

Newton glares at him, “I don’t know, can you?”

Their eyes meet in the glass, faces tight, and he can feel his knuckles turn white around a cane he isn’t holding. 

“Just, go to the basement during the morning rush,” Mira sighs. “We’ll slip down with some of your more personal effects through the week. Thank god they shut down the monitoring network down there.”

“They did?”

Mira’s head snaps up so quickly he thinks he hears it crack. “You’ve been running illegal experiments, and you didn’t even check if the cameras were shut off?” she seethes. For a moment he thinks she might just ring his throat before she takes a deep breath and mumbles to herself, “Nous allons tous perdre nos subventions.” 

“What?”

“Just, lay low,” she snaps. “Act natural for tonight, and in the morning, when everyone is bustling about, go to the basement. And, pour l'amour de Dieu, don’t do anything too inhuman.”

Newton gives her his best confident smile, which is hard when the muscles in his face are trying to match Hermann’s frown.

“How hard can it be?”

 _”Where’s some wood to knock on when you need it,”_ he hears in his mind. It does not inspire confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp...this is gonna get weird.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am NOT dead, and neither is this story.
> 
> I want to apologize both to the commissioner and those who have been waiting. It's been a hectic year, and I was unfortunately ill a few times that made working on things I should have been hard. Always easier to let new thoughts out than working on shinning up older ones.
> 
> I am, however, happy to finally have this out. I'm also happy to say I am doing a lot better health wise and hope to keep up better with updates for ALL of my stories. A lofty wish, but I have hope.
> 
> Thank you for waiting, and I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.

Being knocked out for a few hours is not indicative of a good night's sleep; it is very much the opposite. Newton moves onto one side, then the other, then flat on his back before immediately going to his side again. Each time he tries to lay flat, his lower back aches, and he has to roll, though it does little to relieve the pressure. Across the compound, he feels an echo of discomfort. 

“Is this what Hermann deals with every day?” he mutters as he shifts again. Damn it. It’s no use.

Sitting up, Newton scrubs at his face with his hands; his nails catch on his skin only for it to immediately heal. 

_”Ow.”_ The word is a dull echo in his head, though he knows the base thought is not from him. Great, now he has to go deal with his excess keratin, so he doesn’t fucking hurt Hermann. Not that he can actually cut him, that’s pretty clear. Sharing in sensation, yes, but where Mira had slapped Newton it had bruised and healed while there had been nothing but a slight red sheen for Hermann.

Still, if he can stop the small chorus of ‘ow’ every time he nicks himself, he’ll be happy. They both will. Realizing he knows this because Hermann has agreed with his entire thought chain makes him grit his teeth and shake his head.

_”Please go to sleep,”_ he begs Hermann. He receives back a series of feelings that portray annoyance and anger. The actual passing of thoughts is...tricky. Sometimes it happens without either of them meaning to, and other times it is nothing but a surge of feeling. After Hermann had left earlier, Newton had just about punched a wall when Hermann had run into someone he apparently dislikes. Newton is still unsure if it was that dislike or Hermann’s annoyance at being stopped that had made him so angry, but it had triggered enough anxiety and anger that Newton had almost torn through one of his Kaiju wall hangings.

The pads of Newton’s feet are sore when he steps out of bed, aching down into the bone. He very much dislikes it, but walking is the primary mode of self-transportation, and he has to use his feet to get into the small bathroom located off of his living space. All of the bathrooms in the living quarters are small, barely big enough for a cubical of a shower, a small sink, and a toilet. He snatches the clippers from the cabinet over his sink and goes to work cutting his ever-growing nails.

He pauses on his pinky. The skin isn’t a deep purple anymore, but it isn’t back to his normal color either. His hand, in fact, is turning an odd shade of lavender. The pinky nail is also strange. Where the other nails are all mostly just a gentle curve, there is a distinct ridge gathering in the center of his pinky nail, traveling lengthwise down it, the edge having the start of a curve. 

_”Claws. I’m growing claws,”_ he thinks to himself 

A sleepy murmur of agreement follows, a pang of worry, and then just the gentle undercurrent that is Hermann. 

Newton cuts into the nail, having to press harder than he had with the others, and feels a pop along the tip of his finger. He turns it to look at the tip. There is the smallest hole between the nail and the flesh of his finger, and in it, he can see something hollow poking up and out.

“Hollow claws, perfect for constant replacement,” he mutters as he turns his hand again to look at the ridge down the center of his pinky nail. “Now am I growing a whole new nail bed or is it developing along with my natural human growth?” He turns his hand. Something catches the light.

“Huh?” Newton twitches his hand, and he sees it again. His improved eyesight locks onto the small spot on the side of his palm. Newton rubs at it, trying to remove whatever it is. It looks kind of shiny like he got water on his skin and it is catching the light. That, however, is proving to be very incorrect. 

Panic becomes a fluttering thing in his belly as he gropes for the light switch, eyes refusing to leave his hand. When he finds it, it is already down. His eyes jump up, looking around the bathroom, and he realizes that it is indeed dark. Only his eyes don’t seem to be getting the memo, as they see everything as clearly as if the light was on above him. He swallows and looks back down at his hand because it is clear that the spot isn’t catching any light at all. There, on the back of his hand, a small freckle is glowing.

“Bioluminescence,” he says as he leans against the wall. “I’m turning into a goddamn jellyfish.” Newton traces his eyes up his arm, searching, but he sees no other flecks of light on his flesh. “Least it’s sticking to the— oh fuck me,” he snaps as he looks up and sees himself in the mirror. Around his eyes and the bridge of his nose is the softest shimmer of light. The irises glow gently.

“Great, I look like an extra from a pop video.” The joke does little to settle the panic that flutters inside him. From far away, he feels an echo of it call out from Hermann.

Newton shuts the door to his bathroom and goes back to his bed, which he falls into face first. He’s never been one to sleep on his stomach, but something about the position doesn’t entirely suck. He shifts around a little until he has the pillow cradled in his arms, and his knees under him. It’s awkward as fuck, that’s for sure, but it’s the fist comfortable position he’s found for the ache in his spine, and something about the semi-fetal position is comforting. 

_”Finally.”_ The thought is a gentle echo as he starts to sink into sleep, and he’s unsure whose mind it comes from.

Unconsciousness pulls him, and Newton lets it suck him down with a molasses-like quickness, his body startling softly now and again as he feels a second heartbeat or set of lungs inside his chest. And then, it doesn’t matter that there are two. They hang above the throat, entwined and complete; no beginning no end. Two melded things hanging in the dark glow of a world that groans out to them from a severed connection. It is there, just beyond view, and Newton aches to be there. He can feel things reaches for him in the dark that creates warps in his reality. If he presses hard enough, stares hard enough, he can see them. He can go to _them_ and really be whole. He’ll make them both one with all of those on the other side, and it will be pure euphoric dissonance, and the pain will be gone. 

“No more,” he whispers in his own ear —one of four—; whispers it as they hang above the maw and pain seeps into every molecule and sings in their blood because there are no barriers anymore. There is nothing, nothing, nothing. 

“No,” he whimpers, and his hearts pick up, his lungs pull in air frantically. “No.”

“Yes.” 

The throat is open and welcoming, ready to swallow them; to tear open and eject their family lost on the other side.

“No,” comes whimpered again. It is a tiny voice against his clavicle. The throat is no longer below them but is instead an old, spiral staircase. A metal grate stands between the dark stairs, Newton, and the person in his arms. 

“I don’t want to go down there,” the person sobs, and their fear is Newton’s. He grips tighter, and they cling back.

“Please don’t make me go down there.”

“You talked back,” Newton hears off to his side. “And those who talk back are punished.”

“But it was wrong,” the boy sobs, and he’s right. The mathematical equation had been wrong. Not entirely, just a small mistake near the end. All he had done was fix it. Why is everyone so mad? What had he done?

“There it is again, that mouth.”

Claws grip Newton by the seat of his pants, trying to separate him from _—Hermann, this is Hermann—_. He holds him tighter.

“No, we won’t go,” Newton bites out. “We won’t.”

Words do not follow, but a cry of anger echoes around them and sinks down into the stairwell.

“We won’t. Go away,” he adds, and why does it _hurt_? The claw in his back is digging into his flesh, finding his spine, and Hermann holds tightly to Newton, and he clings back. But the claws are strong, and they are sharp, and the skin fillets away down to bone and cartilage. He feels the vertebre split and slide, following the claw as Hermann sobs sharply into his shoulder.

“No!”

Two echoes of pain fill him, both on opposite sides. Two different rooms loom before his eyes as he lays staring under two separate beds. 

Pain sits deep in him, though now he can’t tell who it is from.

_”Newton?”_ he hears whimpered out of his throat though it is not from his mind.

He can’t bring himself to respond as he reaches behind himself with an aching arm; the one Hermann fell on.

The base of his spine is aflame and swollen. His fingers press on a lump protruding from the skin. In the center it is wet, and when he brings his hands back, he finds blood.

_”Cut off the tip and it’ll grow right back,”_ he hears in his head.

Laughter bubbles up his throat and out between his lips. Or maybe they are sobs. In the dark, he can’t tell which sounds belong to him.

——————

The sweatpants provide some relief in comparison to how everything else has been fitting. Newton’s boxers are all but hanging off his ass, the base of them damp with fluid as the tail — a fucking TAIL— pushes its way out from his flesh. Besides the initial stab of bone through his flesh, there hasn’t been much in the way of blood, but that doesn’t mean much. Clear fluid has been steadily leaking out of the base of his spine as his body creates new skin, muscle, bone, and connecting tissue. 

It has made him ravenous.

“If you keep eating like that people are going to start staring,” Hermann grumbles.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Newton grumbles as he stares at Hermann’s own loaded plate. The two of them have made it through a large amount of food, and one of them has an ache in their stuffed belly while the other still demands food. It’s easy to discern which feeling belongs to whom, at least.

“You gonna eat those?” Newton asks as he points at the few pieces of sausage that Hermann hasn’t touched.

“Take them,” Hermann grumbles as he shoves the tray towards him. Newton picks them up with his fingers, his lavender tinted hand hidden in a wrap. He’s calling it a sprain, not that anyone has asked so far. The dining area is still pretty empty this early, and while the staff has given the two of them a few odd looks, that’s been about it. Hermann is dressed in his usual —though rumpled— suit, and Newton in his sweatpants and a t-shirt. It is rare for the two of them to eat together, let alone show up together; not that it was planned, at least verbally.

Newton grabs a sausage link with his fingers and practically shoves the meat into his mouth. His tongue wraps around it, pulls back, and down into his gullet it goes with the rest.

“Good god, what happened to chewing?” Hermann mumbles.

“‘oo ‘ungy,” is Newton’s response. Chewing seems to be unnecessary, his throat opening easily for everything that passes his lips. 

“Could you at least pretend to be human?“

_”I am human.”_ The words echo through their minds as Newton shoves more food into his mouth. It makes him pause as a bright look of fear flashes over Hermann’s face.

“Then act like it,” Hermann hisses as he looks towards the door, more people entering. Most of them are engineers for the morning shifts, a few other scientists or military personnel; no one they know well.

Newton feels a current of annoyance at Hermann. Why is he being such a dick? He had done all this for _him_ after all. Yeah, it isn’t going as planned, but that doesn’t mean shit. He should still at least feel some gratitude. After they figure out how to get him back to 100% Newton, they’ll have plenty of data to go through and find a cure with. Hell, they might be able to figure it out before reverting Newton, and they could heal together. They would mend and grow and— 

Hermann grabs his hand, making the egg in it squish between both of their palms.

“We’re going,” Hermann says it between gritted teeth, hand tight on Newton’s, and it is the strangest sensation to feel the heat in twin palms. 

Newton snarls slightly, tries to pull back, but feels a resistance to the action more in his mind than his body. 

_”Eyes. Blue.”_ The stilted thoughts flutter through his mind, and with it comes a surge of fear that makes Newton stop. He drops the eggs in his palm and quickly stands.

“Help me pack?” He gives him a strained smile. “Can’t lift a lot with this.” He makes a show of it to the others that are filtering in around them. Newton feels a few people look at them, but no one is paying attention.

“You’re impossible.” But Hermann stands, and the two of them walk out of the eating area, dropping off the two decimated trays on the washing conveyor as they do. Heading back to his room is uncomfortable for a couple of reasons. The first is that Newton can feel Hermann’s annoyance radiating off him like a physical force at his side. The second is that his tail is aching, and he can tell that he’s going to have to change out the meager padding around the base with more toilet paper; it feels like it’s almost soaked through with the mix of clear fluid and blood that the split skin keeps producing. It’s like a reverse wet dream, and there’s no stopping it.

“Stop that,” Hermann hisses as they walk. 

“What?” Newton grunts as he keeps walking. His entire lower body is on fire; back, hips, groin...Fuck.

He glances at Hermann who glares at him.

“Dude, if I could stop it, I would,” he grumbles, reaching down to try and hide the fact that he is half hard walking down the hallway.

“Well try harder,” Hermann hisses. He’s walking oddly with his cane, shaking one of his legs discreetly as they make their way down the hall. 

Newton smells him before anything actually clicks in his brain. It’s odd, to say the least, to be able to smell arousal on a person more than see it. It emanates from Hermann and makes Newton’s body react in kind, a sudden feedback loop that he isn’t expecting.

“What the fuck?” he hisses as he jerks away from him. 

“This is your fault,” is Hermann’s response, his face bright with a blush. 

“Sorry. Not like I can help it. Powdered kaiju bone ups virility, but the protein is pretty much god’s viagra,” Newton replies with a mean smile. He had hoped the pain would be enough to keep libido at bay, but it looks like he’d been wrong about that too. 

Hermann whacks at his leg with the cane, a snarl on his face.

“Well take care of it!”

“You sure you want me to do that?” Newton can’t help the leer; it’s hard not to when he can literally gauge how hard Hermann is based on his smell.

“You expect me to?” 

“Depends, you want to get me off or do you want me to get you off?”

The jolt to his cock is not expected, neither is the stutter of feeling that comes off of Hermann. Newton pauses, his nostrils flare, and he can _feel_ how they widen. Hermann’s scent comes thicker, and this time Newton doesn’t pull away; he leans in. Twin thrums of arousal pulse in his groin, and he’s much more than half hard now.

The tripod of the cane thuds into his chest, pausing him in his tracks. He hadn’t realized he was moving. 

“Back. Off.” Hermann’s words are harsh, cutting into Newton’s brain but not through the ache between his legs.

It takes more control than usual, but Newton steps back. He drags his fingers through his hair, nails catching on the skin, though he doesn’t feel it split.

“Sorry, sorry,” he grumbles as he turns away. “I’ll...I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” Hermann hisses as he goes to walk past. “I’ll come back and help you once you do.”

Newton watches him go and has to fight to keep himself from sniffing after him. Not that it matters much, he can feel just how turned on Hermann is as he walks to his room. The double ache is maddening. Newton’s nails almost shred the front on his sweatpants when he gets his door shut, back pressing up against it as he wraps his hand tight around himself.

He feels Hermann’s reaction as if it’s his own body, suddenly jerking to a halt somewhere. In his room? A hallway? Newton doesn’t really care based on the echo of pleasure that runs through him. 

“Fuck,” Newton pants, and feels the word slip out of another throat. He begins to pump himself, stroking his shaft while swiping the bubbling drops of precum from his slit. His cock feels strange in his hand, and with a breathy laugh, Newton realizes it’s because he’s grown since the last time he needed a release. Not a huge amount, but with an organ as intimate as his dick, he can tell. 

There is a whine in the back of his mind as he swirls his palm over the head of his cock. The secondary press of fingers along his frenum makes him gasp, his eyes seeing both his room and another. Hermann is not standing but laying, and Newton can feel the bite of Hermann’s slacks against his thighs; bunched just above his knees as he lays sprawled on this bed. 

“There?” Newton pants to open air, moving his palm over the head again. The squeeze he feels along Hermann’s cock tells him that yes, ‘there’ is nice. He moves his palm over the tip, spreading more of his precum as he drops his second hand down to his balls, rolling them as he lets Hermann take over working his and —by mental extension— Newton’s, shaft.

Very few words pass between the two, just the loop of pleasure and unvoiced cries bouncing around one another's skulls. A few times they catch, getting tangled up in a jumble of words that are too swirled together to make much sense. The feelings are clear, though, and they tell him ‘more’. It’s a constant, and Newton finds himself complying even as he fights to try and make it last. They barely make it five minutes. 

The whole thing builds up too quick and too fast for Newton to really get lost in it. He can feel something trying to link between them; cogs clicking but then stripping and spinning without one another. He feels Hermann fight against it some, not allowing himself to just drop into the pleasure, but it doesn’t stop them from cumig together. The orgasm is twin ripples curling up their spins, through their balls, and tingling through their thighs. Newton makes a strange, guttural growl on release while he hears Hermann give a strangled, almost pained whine

The two of them hang inside each other's afterglows for a moment, shifting in one another’s skin. As Newton comes down, his eyes adjusting to seeing his cum stained shirt and not Hermann’s ceiling, he can feel those cogs again. They are pulling apart. 

Newton growls as he finds himself clasping at the sense; trying to pull Hermann back and line up the teeth of their inner workings.

From across the living quarters, Newton feels Hermann shudder and pull away.

_’No,’_ is whimpered between them. But it makes no sense and he clasps. Why no? Why wouldn’t they want this? He can feel something there, waiting, and they just need to jump in and let it stitch them together. Just a few quick stabs and—

_’No.’_ The word is soft, but firm, and it halts Newton’s thoughts.

Behind his eyes, Newton sees the throat of a staircase; a young Hermann standing atop a grating.

With a dry mouth, Newton lets the connection drop back into nothing but an undercurrent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise spicier bits to come, but here is just a taste. ;)
> 
> I have also NOT seen the second Pacific Rim. Somehow I have managed not to spoil myself thus far, and I am I going to do my best to keep going off the idea I had for this based on just the first movie, so if there are any similarities, 100% coincidence.

**Author's Note:**

> Newton 'Let's drift with a kaiju and shoot up its blood' Geiszler.


End file.
